


we will rock you

by kapbird



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Mobsters, Organized Crime, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapbird/pseuds/kapbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Black Cat crime syndicate controls Skaia-612-Alpha. Rose Lalonde controls Black Cat. Feferi Peixes is running for mayor. The dachaki are trying to kill everyone who aren't them. </p>
<p>Just another day in galactic politics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we will rock you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isozyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isozyme/gifts).



Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you wake up this morning to a corpse on your doorstep.

That’s actually not exactly true. You wake up to Kanaya nudging you, telling you it’s nine in the morning and you need to get up, Rose, seriously. Still, you have an inkling that your morning is going to involve corpses. Being proven right isn't even particularly disgusting, since the corpse in question is relatively fresh with only a single, cauterized wound, but it still manages to ruin your morning.

You suspect this may have something to do with your job.

*

 

Colony Skaia-612-Alpha, you reflect, is not a glamorous colony.

It is an _important_ colony, to be sure, but not a glamorous one. The Empire needs an entryway into the galaxy’s underbelly, and Skaia-612-Alpha is currently the only port which doesn’t have a “shoot-on-sight” order issued for Alternian trolls. Skaia-612-Alpha is technically an independent colony, but the Adurkan Hegemony has ignored that inconvenient bit of interstellar law for centuries, and the Hegemony's dachaki rule the planet with what they tell themselves is an iron fist.

Nagokdochin, the leader of the expedition which made first contact with the Hegemony is rumored to have once joked that if a friend of the dachaki was murdered, they might have deigned to conduct an investigation. If an acquaintance of the dachaki was murdered, they’d slap the murderer on the back and give them a medal. The dachaki do not approve of this joke, under a general policy of disapproval of jokes, and awarded a medal to the serial killer who murdered Nagokdochin.

In spite of all this (or because of, you think), the trolls and dachaki are friends, and so the Condesce has a doorway into the darker parts of the galaxy. You have taken it upon yourself to fix this.

You arrive on Skaia-612-Alpha with little more than a change of clothes, the Quills of Echidna, and a handgun.

Within six months, you acquire several sharp suits, a great deal of money, and the largest criminal syndicate to exist in Adurkan space. Within eight, the dachaki issue arrest warrants for any and all humans on the planet. While others might be worried, you consider this an achievement. It’s not like they can enforce it, not since the incident at the drone station, and in any case, you have _contacts_ now. By month eleven, complicated trade politics and cyberwarfare attacks have forced the Hegemony to rescind the order, and Jane Crocker and your sister are spending very generous sums of money on a resort planet in the middle of interstellar nowhere.

At fourteen months, Feferi Peixes arrives on Skaia-612-Alpha. At eighteen, she is running for mayor of its capital.

On the last night of month nineteen, one of her agents leaves a corpse on your doorstep.

And that brings you back to month twenty.

You suppose you’d better address this somehow.

*

 

This is not one of your sharper suits, and it’s not reflecting well on your plans for tonight.

You are attending a high-society party, having called in a favor from one of your government contacts in order to get a closer look at Feferi Peixes. As far as everyone will admit, you are Ms. Rose Lalonde, enterprising businesswoman who deals in exotic luxuries – chocolate, wine, arkabh fabric, autographed pictures of Troll Will Smith which aren’t covered in the Condesce’s glittery kisses (a surprisingly rare commodity), that kind of thing. Your real job, however, is hardly a well-kept secret. You are the most dangerous person in this room, and everyone knows it.

Everyone except Peixes, at least.

“Hi!” she says. “I’m Feferi Peixes, and I’m running for mayor! I don’t suppose I could convince you to suppo-”

You hold up a hand to cut her off, smiling slightly. “I’m aware of your platform, Ms. Peixes. I can’t promise my support yet, but we’ll see where this goes. Who knows?”

She grins, and calls over a fellow troll, Something Ampora. He’s remarkably forgettable, but something about him pings your suspicions.

“Did you hear about the murder last week?” you ask casually. “I’m sure by now you’ve heard it so many times you could recite it to the Elder Gods in your sleep, but I’ve found myself unable to shut up about it. I’m sure you can imagine why.”

Her companion has the wherewithal to look slightly ashamed, but Feferi only chuckles. “I sure as shell can!” Her voice is so loud it's almost grating. “I’ll admit that it’s pretty weird, though. After all, you’ve always seemed like an upstanding businesswoman to me! I can’t see how anemoneone like you,” she continues, voice rising, “could get involved in something as dangerous as this!”

You eye your surroundings, taking notice of the forming crowd. The very large, very chatty, very suspicious crowd.

“It certainly is a mystery,” you counter, but it's weak and you both know it. People will be muttering about this for the rest of the party. Feferi could stand to learn a few things about subtlety, you think, but the threat is very clear, and she’s confident enough to maintain a toothy grin throughout the exchange. You trade a few more pleasantries, and make your way to Kanaya, wary of the numerous eyes that are now on your back.

“As far as she’s concerned, we’re doomed,” you tell her quietly. “She thinks we were doomed the moment she set foot on this planet, and I’m worried she might have good reason.”

You finish speaking and notice that her hand has been drifting towards her lipstick. You grab her wrist.

“Kanaya, I appreciate your aptitude for violence tremendously,” you deadpan, “but this is neither the time nor the place. We’ll need to plan this carefully. I would prefer that we not chainsaw the premier mayoral candidate for Prime in half right in front of the audience she just generated.”

Kanaya sighs, but relaxes, staring at Peixes from across the room. She squints, and then stiffens.

“Rose,” she says. “What color were her eyes?”

“Purple, but I don’t see what...” you trail off, and snatch at Kanaya’s wrist again. “Kanaya, stop that. What did I just say?”

“Rose,” she snaps, “that is the heiress to the Alternian Empire and the genetic twin of Her Imperious Condescension.”

Well.

Shit.

*

 

Step one of any good plan is to know your enemy.

Sun Tzu said that. You’re pretty sure it was Sun Tzu. You have thus turned to your sizable databases in an attempt to research Feferi Peixes, both the regular kind and “research”.

You should perhaps clarify that this refers to not-strictly-legal sources of information, and not investigation of her sexual exploits.

As Heiress to the Alternian Empire, she was forced to survive two straight weeks of daily assassination attempts upon reaching adulthood. After that, the Condesce promised to hold off for a sweep, at which point the cycle begins again, presumably contintuing untill eventually one dies and the other rules the Empire. Peixes has survived three cycles, ending the third one prematurely by having the assassins’ vessel blown up in orbit. Perhaps more than a few things about subtlety, you think, and continue your reading.

Peixes is known for her direct, uncompromising approach to basically everything – brute force is her watchword, and damned if it isn’t effective. So far, with only one legion behind her, she’s conquered three colonies in the space of two sweeps. Apparently, the higher-ups in the Alternian military have seen fit to grant her the mission of reclaiming Skaia-612-Alpha from the various organizations which jockey for control of it, and she’s approached the endeavor the same way she does anything else – with gusto, cheer, and the backing of a heavy fleet complete with infantry, cavalry, air support, and anything else an army could ask for. Commanded by Eridan Ampora, with ground troops led by Vriska Serket and Terezi Pyrope, Feferi’s fleet is powerful, efficient, and effectively unusable.

The dachaki do not control nearly as much of the planet as they'd like, and several other factions have a vested interest in keeping the dachaki and the trolls far, far away from anything vaguely resembling an alliance. You are absolutely sure that she can land no more than five hundred soldiers on-planet at any given time, and if her fleet dares to approach within range of Skaian planetary defense stations, it will be blasted to smoldering wrecks floating in the void of Skaia-612. She is allowed precisely one ship in orbit, a troop carrier with very little in the way of actual artillery. She can't bomb you, at the very least.

The Scourge Sisters, Serket and Pyrope, are perhaps the perfect minions for someone like Peixes – Vriska’s military approach coincides roughly with Feferi’s, whereas Pyrope actually seems to think, and tempers the other two. She was instrumental in the conquest of Shrapnir-7, which is now a...farming colony?

You frown. Peixes’ other conquests consist most notably of a mining colony and a planet with a remarkably anomalous magnetosphere. On a hunch, you pull up output data from the first two colonies, and find that it’s ridiculously high, arguably the most valuable in their fields. These resources could feed and supply a fleet twice the size of Feferi's. Her scientists are no doubt plundering the secrets of the third colony's magnetic fields as you sit.

The Heiress’ other accomplishments include several space battles won at the absolute last-minute by her own fleet’s timely arrival. She never seems to jump in to relieve the Empire’s forces, just to avenge them. Several times, her aid is requested in advance, but her arrival is always delayed by something – extensive troop injuries, radiation damage repairs – which always conveniently prevents her from arriving any earlier than she has to.

You recognize a potential civil war when you see one, and your instincts scream at you that engaging with Feferi Peixes is very much a Bad Idea, and that you should probably quit while you’re ahead.

Instead, you make several recruitment calls.

*

 

Pulling in this many favors, you realize, will leave you in a dangerous position. Removing Feferi is going to take as much work as establishing your syndicate in the first place, and frankly will probably be just as painful.

Megido's Curiosities _radiates_ the feeling of age. The door chimes upon your entry, and Aradia glances at you over the pages of her archaeological journal, socked feet up on her desk. The dusty old antiques shop is filled with skulls, lining the walls and shelves, and you have to pick your way past several strewn about the floor, as well as duck under a few hanging from the ceiling. The displays are interspersed with various artifacts from old dachaki civilization, as well as a few other pieces.

“Aradia.” You stifle a sigh. “Still running digs?”

“Yes, actually,” she says. “My paper on dachaki sociological history during the sixth advancement cycle was very well received! By which I mean the Hegemony ordered all copies burned or purged.” She tilts her head, pulls her feet of the desk, and smooths her ragged skirt. “So it’ll probably be very well received.”

“Fascinating,” you say. “I’m calling in my favor.”

She seems to perk up. “What for?”

“You’re a powerful psychic with the ability to speak to and marshall ghosts,” you tell her. “Feferi Peixes is running for mayor of 612-Alpha-Prime. I need your support against her.”

She’s levitated you halfway out of the shop before you manage to shout, “Serket’s involved!”

You stop dead, suspended over the skull of some unidentifiable alien, psychic energy crackling around you. Aradia eyes you suspiciously, then pulls you back to her desk.

“Keep talking,” she says.

*

 

It strikes you that to have a meeting with a new enemy to follow one with an old friend is extremely elegant. It’s a shame you couldn’t actually do it, but you do actually have to maintain your syndicate, and that involves meetings with people much more boring than Aradia Megido or Feferi Peixes. You appreciate the contrast nonetheless.

Peixes contacts you shortly after the party, wanting to follow up on your potential political support. Application of stolen Empire decryption keys revealed a secondary message, one noting that she was on to you (as if this was some kind of accomplishment) and that the meeting was essentially a peace negotiation. The message had also said that not attending would be met with a declaration of war by her fleets, surprising you given her inability to use them without turning nearly every government in the galaxy against her. Feferi is audacious in a way no one’s seen since the Dirtelu incident or that time someone tried to clone Bill Gates, although you can’t say you disapprove.

Your meeting spot is located within the burned-out industrial district known as Skaia-612-Alpha-Prime-B. Once the site of significant struggle between dachaki regulator forces and your own, it is now a skeleton of a city. Nine months of intense conflict eventually forced the dachaki up against a wall, and they decided to blow the ever-living fuck out of the area, drone factory, barracks, and all. You managed to evacuate most of your forces beforehand, but your own people will never be as disciplined as a professional military, and you learned that the hard way. The district is now a reminder to both sides that negotiation, however annoying it might be for either of you, is cheaper than the alternative. It also reminds you that the Hegemony is really bad at naming things.

The meeting will take place in the shell of an apartment building on a hill overlooking the destroyed remains of the factory. You’ve decided to meet her bluntness with your own.

Your entourage is not large – fifteen at most – but you’ve agreed that only two will accompany you within the building. She’s chosen Serket and Pyrope, and your allies will be Kanaya and Aradia. Of course, your promises were blatant lies, as were hers; Nepeta Leijon is hiding somewhere within the rafters, and the rest of your forces are spread out further back from the meeting site. You know that her sniper is on the second floor as well, likely aiming at your party through the gaps left behind by your earlier conflict with the police. All as expected, then. Frankly, the only thing that surprises you is that Feferi appears to have brought a metal table and fold-out plastic chairs. Mood seems to be another problem she needs to address; it feels like you’re at a PTA meeting.

“Ms. Peixes.” You pull out a chair and sit, crossing your legs and folding your arms. “The last time we met, these were made of siril.”

She shrugs. “It’d have to come out of campaign finances.”

You lean back and rub your temples, two things you’ve been doing a lot recently. “Let us cut to the chase. You’re running for mayor. For some reason, this involved assassinating my employees. Why?” You see her mouth open, and hold up a hand to stop her. “Don’t tell me it’s your sense of justice and desire to uphold the law. I’m not that naive.”

Pyrope rises, looking offended, but Feferi jabs her with an elbow and she sits back down.

“Don’t play dumb, Lalonde! We both know exactly how much finfluence you had over the Vagabond’s election, and you’re going to have just as much over his successor. We also know how much trouble Alternian cod-voys started having once Black Cat was eelstablished.” Feferi leans forward. “I can’t have you interfering like that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Surely we can come to some sort of compromise. I throw my weight behind you and perhaps a five-percent cut of my profits, and you ease up on mobility?”

Serket tosses her hair. “Eighty-eight or nothing doing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Eight, since you're so fond of the number.”

“Sea, that's the thing, Rose!” Feferi chirps brightly. You twitch irritably at the use of your first name. “I don't care about the money. I don't even care about the convoys. I care about the colony. You run the colony.” Her grin sharpens. “There's an ob-sea-ous solution to that.”

You expected negotiations to last longer than this, but the grins of the three women facing you confirm that there’s little point wasting time. You flick your head towards Kanaya as Feferi’s bodyguards begin to rise, and she flips the table, knocking the troll trio back as you take cover behind it. A blast of white light vaporizes the chair you were sitting on, and the sound of gunfire erupts as your mobsters engage Feferi’s soldiers. Shouts ring across the complex, and you manage to dash your way back behind a support pillar with Kanaya in tow. Aradia covers you, summoning ghosts to congregate around Serket and suppress her psychic influence. The sniper’s next few shots go wild; you assume Nepeta must have found him.

You take a few shots around the pillar, and turn to Kanaya. “Cover me,” you tell her. “I’m going to sneak around and see if I can find Peixes.”

Kanaya nods and hefts her own gun, and on your signal she turns and fires across, forcing Pyrope to drag the still-thrashing Serket behind cover. You draw the Quills and move quietly around an elevator shaft. A scan of the far side reveals no visible Heiress.

There’s a slight whoosh of air, and you whirl just in time to catch the prongs of Feferi’s trident with the Quills. You barely manage to push it aside, but she’s already twisting the other end back, and before you know it, she has the handle pressing your neck against the back of the elevator shaft. You struggle briefly, hissing, and slam your foot onto hers. The instant she recoils, you twist the trident out of her hands and send it clattering across the floor.

Feferi is furious now. She jerks her leg forward and sweeps your feet from under you. You go down hard, and barely manage to dodge one fist. You are not so lucky the second time.

_Fuck_.

You feel like your lungs have been cut in half. As you choke, trying to recover your breath, you catch the distinctive sound of dachaki police sirens.

The gunfire stops instantly, and the only sound is that of your ragged gasps. Feferi looks as panicked as everyone else.

“Listen up,” you rasp out. “We’re two upstanding businesswomen who found ourselves caught in a mob shootout. What a shame that was.”

You cough again, and continue. “It’s a good thing that the police arrived here so quickly, or else we might have suffered even worse injuries. We don’t know where the mobsters went. They just disappeared when the police showed up. Thank you, kind officers. We’re ever so grateful,” you make another shuddering attempt to inhale, “for your help.”

Feferi nods and relays your orders as you finally manage to start breathing regularly again. You hear the sound of Empire dropship engines starting, and you’re sure your own people have faded into the crowds which cross through the burned-out district at dawn, indistinguishable from the mass of migrating citizens.

The ride to the station is quiet. You’re not sure that this is a victory, but Feferi seems to consider it a loss.

*

 

The interrogation goes relatively smoothly – you deliver the standard sob story, “Oh thank you officer, I was so scared, but your prompt actions saved my life. I’d just like to put this all behind me, and I’ll make sure you all get a nice reward – I think we have a new shipment of chocolate in, would you like some of that?” and the authorities don’t ask too many questions. You are not very smug about Feferi having a harder time of it, but you can’t help but feel a _little_ superior.

Feferi's interrogation lasts nearly half an hour, but the dachaki don't have anything solid and are forced to let her go. She storms out and seats herself on a bench across from you, waiting for the all-clear signal that will allow you two to leave. She leans forward, shoulders set and elbows on her knees, tapping irritably with a foot or hand. For your part, you have folded up your jacket and are using it as a pillow.

Finally, she says, “That play-innocent plan should’ve worked a lot better.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Worked perfectly fine for me.”

“ _You_ are a criminal,” Feferi says. “I’m an upstanding politician who’s never done anyfin gillegal.”

You snort. “Ipsil-7-Gamma would beg to differ, as would Kolyos-12-Beta and Wasteland-9-Theta.”

“What? Those were totally within my right to conquest as a ranking offisher in the Empire. I’ve never broken the law before.”

“Well,” you drawl, “there’s a first time for everything, Ms. Peixes. Two more on your punch card and I’ll send you some free wine.”

“I wouldn’t want any of your wine,” she says sullenly.

You fake a gasp. “No one’s ever rejected my wine! I’m sea-riously offended that you’d pass up on an opportunaty like this!”

“You can’t fish pun! That’s the exclusive right of seadwellers.”

“Salmon has to,” you point out.

“Oh, you – ugh.” She gestures inarticulately, growling.

“I guess I hit a nerve,” you say, leaning back onto your jacket-pillow. “I didn't think you'd rise to my bait so easily, but I suppose everyone has their stormy moments.”

Feferi's anger appears to have reached critical mass, because she stands up, marches over, grabs you by your tie, and mashes your mouth to hers.

It is not a kiss. She tries to make it a kiss, but you are so taken by surprise that by the time you process what’s happened, the all-clear signal has sounded, and Feferi has made herself scarcer than Jaitian alcohol or an incompetent shipping officer. You are instead left with a slight cut from a stray fang on your lip to commemorate the moment. It's starting to sting.

You get up slowly, put on your jacket, and leave, making a mental note to ask Kanaya _exactly_ what kismessitude entails.

*

 

In later months, you will find yourself denying that Feferi Peixes is remarkably attractive, as well as any allegations that your sudden interest in kismessitude means anything. No one who knows you will believe these denials, but you will make them nonetheless. You will protest loudly against being placed on Nepeta’s shipping grid, and you will snap at Kanaya’s subtle smirks, and you will look extremely guilty when you are caught making out with Feferi a month later. You will transfer a great deal of money to John, Jade, and Dave, grudgingly paying out your bets, and you will grumble about this to Feferi, who will have had to do the same. You will argue about who has it tougher, and it will ultimately lead to more making out.

In the meantime, Feferi’s campaign will continue to make its impact on Skaia-612-Alpha-Prime, and you will do your best to halt her. Every personal detail of her cabinet is brought to light - “Serket’s illicit affair with lowblood revealed!” the news websites proclaim one day, and the next, “Did Terezi Pyrope engage in flushed relations with a mutant?” You are particularly proud of bringing Zahhak’s authority issues to light, especially the (mostly false) story of his indecent proposals to you. “I can’t imagine what Ms. Peixes is doing, hiring people like this as cabinet members,” you say, and smirk directly into the camera. You can almost imagine her frustrated face as her PR team scrambles to recover from the scandal.

On Feferi’s end, police crackdowns increase. More and more Alternian troops are investigating shipments, and you’re forced to come up with tighter, more efficient smuggling routes and methods to make it past the watchful eyes (noses?) of Pyrope’s troops. Profit margins drop by twenty-seven percent within weeks, and are slow to recover, as contacts and hideaways start to become less reliable and suppliers become uncooperative. You can only order so many shopkeepers beaten up to keep them in line. At one point, Kanaya and Nepeta actually have to fight their way out of a warehouse and hijack one of the fleet’s dropships to make it back to your own territory. You build an anti-aircraft tower in the region, ostensibly to protect future investments, but primarily out of sheer spite. While the tower never really does you much good, it's the thought that counts, and the scratches she leaves all over your back the next time you meet can attest to the fact that Feferi's thoughts are very, very angry.

It is month twenty-four, the two-year anniversary of your arrival on this rock, and life is good.

*

 

It is month twenty-nine on this rock and you are hard-pressed to find a time in your life as shitty as this.

Apparently someone in the Hegemony decided they were fed up with your presence here. The old management of the planet’s dachaki contingent was challenged to a duel and assassinated the night before, in accordance with the ritual manner that all dachaki duels must obey. After this, anyone in a significant position of leadership must exile themselves from the planet within a week or face summary execution, to be carried out by ingestion of six live Adurkan bees. Obviously, no more fifty percent of these individuals make it off-planet alive. The rest are killed in various manners, though one is always drowned, even on desert planets. Again, all in accordance with the ritual.

The current police chief tried to flee, and was instead assassinated. The new one has some very naive notions of justice and wrote several essays expounding at length upon the evils of corruption and bribery. You almost find it cute, except that you’ve lost twenty people to the new regime in the space of a month. Six were arrested and imprisoned, nine were executed, two were found dead after shootouts, and three disappeared under circumstances which the news is calling mysterious but are exactly the opposite. This is unacceptable.

It occurs to you that Feferi’s campaign has been having trouble, too, and a lot more convoys are getting stopped by people who aren't yours. An irritatingly reasonable voice suggests you should probably cooperate.

You push a stack of reports aside, lean back, and drum your fingers on the table. You stare into space for a significant while. You organize your reports, and reorganize them, and finish all the short ones, and reorganize them again, and then you clean your office too. Then you start drumming your fingers again.

Finally, you give in and contact her. The feed opens to the image of Feferi in a water-room, wearing a Squiddles t-shirt and nothing else, hair floating about. She opens her mouth, bubbles flowing out, and delivers a line of gibberish over the background noise of flowing water.

“I honestly have no idea what you’re trying to say,” you tell her. “Also, your shirt sucks.”

She flips you off and leans in. You catch the sound of a dial, and the ambient sound disappears.

“Whale, fuck you too,” she says. “What’s up?”

“We need to do something about Commissioner Kalashk,” you inform her. “I know for a fact that they were behind the fiasco at last week’s party.”

Feferi blinks. “You’re shore?”

“I’m shore. Sure. I had spies with lenses; I can send you the videos.” You pause. “But that’s not enough. The only people we could possibly report it to are Kalashk’s already. We need to remove them from power the hard way.”

Feferi frowns. “I have to stay within their legal floundaries in certain parts of town, but I do have some districts where I can do what I want.”

“I’ll connect you with weapons merchants,” you tell her. “See if you can sneak in some extra troops in those places and I’ll see what I can do about Kalashk’s suppliers. Also, they’re attending some kind of party thrown by a wealthy sponsor who wants to honor them for ‘cleaning up the town,’-” your face sours, “-so we’ll attend and see if we can get anything from them there.”

“I should’ve minnown you'd go for something like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, suddenly suspicious.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Your shirt still sucks,” you inform her childishly. “I hope this isn’t how you’re going to show up to the party.”

Feferi looks at you, and very deliberately reaches down, tugs, and pulls it off, leaving herself stark naked as the cloth floats free. She leans in slowly and turns off the camera.

You swallow heavily and turn towards your stack of reports, doing your level best to focus on the work in front of you. It works less well than you'd hoped.

*

 

You are once again attending a high-society party thrown in favor of your enemy, albeit in a much better suit, and you fervently hope that you will not end up making out with this one, too. Kalashk’s ceremony is going to take place later in the night, where they’ll be presented with a medal for their efforts, and their sponsor has gone all out. There’s actually a live band playing, as well as a professional team of chefs pulled from at least six different species.

Kalashk is mingling cheerfully, all smiles and promises to keep up the good work, my friends, and any support we can get from you is much appreciated! You nudge Feferi, and jerk your head.

“There they are,” you mutter. “Responsible for twenty deaths and five permanent injuries on my end, and, what, a dropship’s worth on yours?”

“All hands lost, and it was irreparable, too,” she grumbles back. “They’re coming over.”

Sure enough, Kalashk has ambled their way to you, and you manage a slight smile.

“Commissioner,” you say. “Congratulations. You must be very proud of your successes so far.”

“I do my best not to become complacent, Ms. Lalonde,” they respond solemnly. “The complacency of others is what got me here, you know.”

“I do know,” you say, and let the statement hang there. Kalashk shifts nervously, and turns to Feferi.

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your companion. I’m Commissioner Kalashk, as you know, and you are...?”

“Feferi Peixes,” Feferi responds cheerfully. “I’m running for mayor of Prime.”

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Peixes,” Kalashk says smoothly. “I've followed your campaign very closely, and I can tell you that to enforce the laws under you would be an honor.”

Your silent prayers to the gods that Feferi not fuck this up are answered, as she giggles. “Why, thank you! Have you ever met my Fleet Admiral – no, I don’t think you have.” She catches Ampora’s eye, and waves him over. “Eridan! Meet the guest of honor. Commissioner, this is Fleet Admiral Eridan Ampora, he commands the Alternian Sixth Fleet in combat.”

Kalashk blinks. “The same Sixth Fleet that won the Battle of Gerrik’s Rig?”

“The very same! Eridan, you alwaves seem to love talking shop, right? Well, here’s someone who can keep up with you! Have fun, alright?”

Eridan and Kalashk launch immediately into an animated discussion rife with military jargon, and you can't help but notice that as the former expounds at length about the new rifle line he’s purchased from Qualnahar Industries and enhanced training regimens for his soldiers, Kalashk’s smile is tightening. Eridan eventually slings his arm over them and leads them away, still chatting, and you acknowledge Feferi’s grin with a fist bump.

“Nice one,” you tell her. “I wasn’t expecting something that clever from you.”

She snorts and steals a piece of candy from you.

*

 

“May the gods save me from recalcitrant weapons dealers,” you complain.

Nepeta giggles. “Purr-lease. You like intimidating them.”

“You think you know me so well,” you say lightly. She giggles again, and hops over the bridge railing, clambering down to the bar.

“Nepeta, wait!” you shout halfheartedly. “I have to take the stairs!”

“Make sure not to fall down them!” comes the cheerful reply, and you groan.

The Burning Nile is frequented by all manner of semi-legal businesspeople dealing in such fields as drugs, sex, gambling, finance, mercenary work, and your focus for tonight, weapons. Nepeta loves it, because it is a space tavern and thus the method by which a group of brave adventurers could conceivably undertake a grand quest, but you prefer it for its more practical uses. One of your more reliable suppliers seems to think that she cannot fulfill your new contracts. You and Nepeta are going to disabuse her of this notion.

The Nile is crowded, as usual, and a heavily-clothed being of unidentifiable species bumps into to you as you enter. You apologize, glance around, and see your supplier in the corner. Ikosii Ralsin is precisely the kind of skinny that lends one to appear exceptionally nervous at all times, which is appropriate because Ikosii Ralsin is exceptionally nervous at all times. She jumps when you and Nepeta sit down across from her, and she continues to glance about, as if searching for escape routes.

“Ralsin,” you say flatly. “Would you care to explain exactly what you meant when you asked to renegotiate our contract?”

She meets your eyes fearfully. “Okay, listen, I'm not here for just me, alright, there's a lot of other interests involved here, and they're pressurin' me and a lot of other guys to keep away from you, alright? Lots of black vans around my stores – my legitimate stores,” she adds, seeing your face, “and lots of dachaki with high-grade military tech, alright, and listen, people're sayin' maybe it might not be so healthy to sell t'you, alright?”

“I get the picture,” you say dryly. “And these other interests – they've contacted you directly?”

She nods. “Yeah, police officers showed up at a few of my doors, made some 'nice place you got here' threats earlier, some more obvious ones later on.”

“Good to know,” you say, and consider your next move. Nepeta waves someone over and orders food, while Ralsin chatters nervously.

Suddenly, something occurs to you. “They're here, aren't they?”

“What now?”

“They're here,” you repeat. “The 'other interests', the ones who I assume supply the dachaki, they're here, in the Burning Nile. They're watching us right now, and I'll bet-” you raise your voice enough to be heard by everyone in the establishment “-that said interests are very well compensated by the police for their work!”

A murmur runs through the crowd. The person you bumped into earlier shifts, slightly, and you catch sight of the Hegemony emblem on their jacket.

Well then. You march over and rip down the person's hood. Human, male, late forties.

“Listen up,” you hiss, drawing him close to you. “You are done here. Your colleagues are done here. Your employers are done here. Everyone you know is done here. If you ever show up again, I will personally ensure that the only thing anyone ever sees of you will be the ground-up powder of your _bones_.”

You eye the crowd, and it occurs to you that you have a fantastic opportunity to take a page out of Feferi's book. You climb up onto the table and drag him with you.

“My friends!” you shout, and shake the man by his jacket. “This man works for the Hegemony's law enforcement. He sought to pressure several of you to head back to the straight and narrow.”

Another murmur, this time of discontent. You grin internally. “He probably thought he could get an officer's position out of the deal. All he would have to do is report all of you back to his masters, at which point they would shut down several of your businesses.”

The crowd is muttering now, hanging on your every word, and you relish the influence. You're beginning to understand the appeal of these tactics. “You are all enterprising businesspeople,” you continue. “You understand how valuable each others' businesses are. Even if you're not first on the chopping block, that doesn't mean this man's bosses won't come for you at some point. And do you really deserve to lose your hard-earned profits to this?” You shake the man again, to the approving shouts of the crowd.

“I'm going to let this one live,” you announce. “As a warning.” The crowd boos, but you hold up your hand. “In about an hour, I expect to see him able to leave and report back to his bosses. So all I need him to be able to do,” you say, shaking the man again, “is walk and talk.”

The crowd's shouts are suddenly approving again. You toss him into the now-roiling mass, hop down, and return to Nepeta and Ralsin.

“I trust our contract no longer needs to be renegotiated,” you say smoothly, and Ralsin nods.

“Yeah,” she says, awed. “Yeah, it's – yeah, no changes, you'll get your guns 'n' stuff delivered.”

You nod at Nepeta, and she bounds over. You walk out of the Nile to the sound of politics in action.

*

 

You are initially very confused when the secretarybot drones that Vriska Serket is here to see you. Exiting your office to find Kanaya holding Vriska to the ground as the latter flails ineffectively does not help.

“Kanaya, I don’t think-”

“She was going to carve in your door,” your girlfriend supplies helpfully.

“Fair enough,” you grant. “Serket, why are you here?”

“I have something Feferi wants you to know,” she grinds out. “Media won’t have the story for another few hours, but you should know in advance. Can you let me go now?” she snaps at Kanaya.

“Go ahead,” you tell Kanaya. “What happened?”

Vriska shoves a memory card into your hands. “Everything’s on there,” she says sullenly. “Feferi didn’t trust any networks.”

You dismiss Vriska, enter your office, and slot the card in. The file’s contents consist mostly of the terms of a duel that Kalashk has challenged Feferi to – time, date, location, and all that, but what interests you most are the terms of the accompanying wager. Kalashk promises to allow Feferi to nominate any candidate she wants to command of Adurkan forces upon their loss, given that Feferi will agree to have all of her officers above the rank of Captain killed and her fleet withdrawn from the solar system if she loses. The duel itself, of course, is to the death, and unlike standard dachaki ascension rituals, pre-event assassinations will not win Feferi anything.

The file also contains instructions on how to access a communication channel that Feferi can guarantee is one hundred percent secure. You follow them, and open the line.

TT: Your “secure line” doesn’t even have video?   
TT: Or voice?   
CC: O)( s)(ut up.   
CC: Don't pretend like you understand the carplexities of securing communications.   
TT: That was weak. I’ve done better.   
TT: Hell, I’ve heard better from you.   
CC: Yea)(, w)(ale, fuck you.   
CC: <3<   
TT: <3<   
TT: What are you going to do about the duel?   
CC: S)(ell if I know! T)(at's w)(y I clamtacted you, dumbass!   
CC: I'm leaning towards agreeing, but I figure you mig)(t be able to )(elp in, you know, less legal ways.   
TT: I resent this accusation.   
CC: It's TRU-------------------E!   
TT: I resent it anyway.   
TT: Besides, I can’t actually kill Kalashk. It would invalidate the terms of the duel and we’d have to start over again.   
TT: It’s a good sign that they’re desperate enough to try something like this, though.   
TT: Can’t you just ignore it? Refuse to fight them?   
CC: I cod, but Kala)(sk's agent made it clear t)(at I'd pretty muc)( be declaring war on t)(e Adurkan )(egemony.   
CC: And if we're going to go to war, it's more conc)(venient to just krill t)(em t)(is way.   
TT: Okay, fine.   
TT: Why do you need me?   
TT: I can’t help you fight, no matter how much you need it. You wouldn’t even want my help.   
CC: B-ECAUS------------E, dummy!   
CC: Killing Kalashk only invalidates the terms of the duel if you get CAUGHT.

 

*

 

Dachaki duels are a _spectacle_ , the way baseball or the Troll VMAs are. The setup is actually remarkably similar to a sports arena, in that it’s absolutely packed, with each side having brought their own banners, face paint, and other assorted merchandise. Feferi and Kalashk mutually agreed that the proceeds from the event would go to the winner, so both of them have taken the chance to let their marketing departments go all out. At one point six advertisements for this fight were aired back to back. You never thought that Fieri the Fight Flea could stop being hilarious until now.

Feferi has managed to secure you and Kanaya box seats along with the Scourge Sisters. Vriska is currently wearing a “Go )(eiress!” t-shirt and toting as much merchandise as she can, and Terezi is taking the opportunity to dig into several buckets (“containers,” she says, pointing at you with her cane) of popcorn. You are dressed casually for once, and are leaning forward in your seat, watching the arena intently and half-paying attention to the pre-match commentary.

“You seem nervous,” Kanaya comments.

“Mmh,” you grunt. “I’m not nervous, so much as concerned. I feel like we underestimated Kalashk, somehow.”

“Kalashk has consistently underestimated you since their reign here,” your girlfriend points out. “Why should this time be any different?”

“You basically just sealed our doom,” you tell her. “They’re going to catch on to us now.” She rolls her eyes, and you chuckle. “Just be prepared, okay?”

She nods her assent. “I will be prepared for any duplicity Kalashk won’t have.”

“Thank you,” you tell her honestly. The _I love you_ goes unsaid.

You hope.

“You're welcome,” she says, and then, “I think it’s starting.”

Sure enough, Feferi and Kalashk are marching out to the center of the arena. Kalashk whips a spiked mace back and forth as they march, and Feferi twirls her trident once. They meet in the center, and tap their fists against each others’ chests. Each takes two steps back and assumes a ready stance.

At the start signal, Kalashk blurs in, and the fight begins.

 

*

 

The advantage of seats like this is that they allow you a perfect view of Kalashk's face when they realize they've been poisoned.

Their slowing is almost imperceptible, and the poison acts so quickly that it'll be mostly purged from Kalashk's system within about five minutes, but it'll be enough for Feferi, who is already pressing her advantage. Sparks and clangs fill the air as Kalashk is forced to sacrifice their position in order to avoid being forked in the chest. Their few sweat glands are functioning on overdrive, doing their best to remove the toxins from their bloodstream, but it's not going to be enough, and the combatants both know it. Vriska waves her sports-finger-thing that much harder, cheering, and you lean forward in your seat.

Kalashk tucks and rolls out of the way of Feferi's overhead strike, having run out of arena to back away in, and leans over, hissing, as Feferi closes in. They shift their grip and you suddenly notice a button on the mace handle, one they are about to press.

It all happens at once: the squelching sound of Feferi's trident puncturing soft flesh, the twin expressions of horror on your faces as you both reach the same conclusion, a half-shout of warning, and the explosion that confirms your suspicions in the worst way possible.

 

*

 

“Technically,” Kanaya's voice comes from above the wreckage, “I don't think you can qualify explosives as duplicity.”

“Shut up and get me out of here,” you try to grunt. It doesn't come out very well, but your girlfriend seems to get the idea, and in short order the rubble is pulled off you and Kanaya is helping you to your feet as the air continues to shudder. “What happened to the others?” you manage to gasp out.

“Vriska broke some ribs and possibly an arm; Terezi's tending to her,” Kanaya reports dutifully. You nod and reach for the Quills.

“That can't be it,” you say. “What else?”

Kanaya points up, and the source of the shuddering becomes clear.

“I don't suppose this qualifies as duplicity either,” you say dryly, and Kanaya chuckles in spite of herself. “Anyway, the anti-aircraft tower I had built is specced for up to ships twice this size, and we can activate it remotely from any signaling device with sufficient strength.”

“Get down to the arena!” Terezi calls. “We can't afford to lose Feferi, and she doesn't have any backup down there.”

Kanaya promises to escort the other two down on their own time, and you race your way through the chaos of the arena, disposing of dachaki troops when and where you can. Every now and then, you catch sight of a few Black Cats who'd had the foresight to bring their own weapons, and it reassures you. Finally, you make it to the arena floor, where Feferi is fending off a trio of dachaki soldiers with her trident and the ex-comissioner's mace. You blast the outer two, stab the one in the middle, and push them off the Quills. Feferi nods in thanks and tosses the mace aside. “What are we doing about all,” she pauses and makes a vague gesture towards the arena, “this?”

You start to explain, but Feferi cuts you off before you make it halfway through. “No time,” she says. “We won't make it out of this stadium for hours. I have a hookup to my ship; Sollux can tap into your AA gun from there and take the ship out.”

You frown. “It's protected and I'm not giving you the access codes. We need to get out of here.”

“Don't be stupid, Rose, we have no other op-fins!”

“Are you really fish-punning right – never mind, forget I asked,” you snap. “Do you really expect me to trust you with the access codes to the guns I built to keep your people out of my territory?”

Feferi throws up her arms. “Yes, Rose, trust! I do expect you to trust your quadrants, that's kind of what people do!”

You grit your teeth. “Six-six-four-three-two,” you finally bite out.

She blinks. “What?”

“Six-six-four-three-two is the code,” you snap. “Don't make me repeat it.”

She nods, and taps her earpiece. You take a few potshot at scattered dachaki troops, and within seconds, the troop transport is retreating as fire pounds into its hull. Dropships swarm back to back to it as Feferi's own ship moves in to take its place. For the first time in what feels like years, you can relax, and you lean against the arena wall.

Feferi picks her way over a dachaki corpse and sits down next to you. Despite the whine of various dropships and the occasional shouts and drumbeat bursts of gunfire, it feels quiet in a way you are not quite sure makes any logical sense but appreciate nonetheless.

“Nice job,” she says.

“Can't say the same for you,” you reply. “I don't know why you insist on so many circular motions when fighting, but it's horribly ine-fish-cient and is going to get you killed some day.”

“You can't block worth shit! I could fork you right now and you couldn't do a thing about it.”

An easy grin slides onto your face. “Oh, I'll bet you could fork me.”

You are bickering cheerfully when Vriska, Kanaya, and Terezi join you on the arena floor.

 

*

 

TT: I can’t believe we’re still using this thing.   
TT: It is the twenty-third century; surely we should be able to transmit secure video.   
CC: Not)(ing is ever secure, apparently!   
CC: Except for t)(is.   
TT: Your hacker has an ego.   
CC: )(e's a lot like you, actually!   
TT: Wow.   
TT: That was a low blow.   
TT: I might have to acknowledge your intelligence in some fashion after all.   
CC: Okay, well, w)(ile you're doing t)(at, read t)(is.   
\-- cuttlefishCuller[CC] sent tentacleTherapist [TT] the file hththhhhthtttttththtthhhhhttththhththhh.lps --   
TT: What the hell.   
TT: Feferi, when you said the civil war was approaching soon, I didn’t realize you meant within my lifespan.   
CC: I can t)(ink s)(ort-term! I can t)(ink s)(ort-term! Too many of my agents would DI----E if I delayed t)(is by centuries.   
TT: I take it you abandoned this place to Zahhak so you could counter these plans?   
CC: You're catc)(ing on!   
TT: I anticipate your insult in which you turn my own “acknowledge your intelligence” jab against me.   
CC: I mig)(t )(ave to acknowledge your   
CC: Coddammit.   
CC: Anyway! I know you, Rose. You're bored out of your mind, and t)(e civil war is app-roac)(-ing more quickly t)(an you t)(ink.   
CC: W)(ere are you going to be?

\-- cuttlefishCuller [CC] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

You idly twirl a piece of fried squid in your fingers, and consider the challenges involved in taking over a fuel mine.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't quite realize how great this prompt was until it spiraled into 8k words out of absolutely nowhere but one day i sat down and started layering things over the mental skeleton i had of this fic and suddenly i was looking at a shambling monstrosity.
> 
> thanks to my beta for turning it from a shambling monstrosity into a monstrosity capable of elegant and graceful movement.


End file.
